Contradiction
by ariani.xo
Summary: Arnold happens to hear Helga calling their sex life boring. He's determined to prove her 100% wrong. Idea of story belongs to llz.


**Hey guys so I wrote this because I was bored, so hope you enjoy oh and by the way sorry for not updating Famous but I got hit with major writers block and I just like complete didn't know what to write but I'm back so that means update on famous are gonna come, slow but definitely coming. So hope you enjoy.**

 **I don't own Hey Arnold or the idea of this story, it belongs to .**

"I don't know, Phoebe... I mean, I love him, of course I do, but sometimes he treats me like a porcelain doll." I sigh, shoulders slumping.

It was six in the evening on a Friday. I had the house to myself for the weekend, and Arnold was out with Gerald.I lay on my back, a bowl of grapes balancing on my stomach as I lamented to Phoebe about my sex life over the phone.

"So he's boring?"

"No!" I defended him automatically, before pausing to think. "Okay, maybe he's a little boring, but it's because he doesn't want to hurt me. He's very... sweet, you know?"

"Have you tried telling him to be a bit... rougher?" **Phoebe** giggled.

I laughed, too. "No way. It might hurt his feelings," I sighed. "I'm just tired of having to fake orgasms, you know? I know I should talk to him about it, but, like, what if he doesn't know how to? What if he only has one speed or something?"

Trish was laughing pretty hard by now. "Oh God. Okay. Wow. I'm dying." Her sentences were punctuated by laughs. I muttered a few "shut up"'s, but I was kind of laughing myself.

"I'm not surprised, to be honest. Arnold's always seemed pretty vanilla." I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

"Vanilla as hell," I agreed, then sighed. "I don't want to be made love to. I just want to be fucked, damnit."

"Oh really?" Came a voice from the doorway. I sat up quickly, knocking the bowl of grapes to the floor.

"Oh," I whispered, my eyes wide. "you're home,"

God, I was lame.

And, judging from the look on his face, I was also in trouble.

Arnold didn't look amused. At all. He walked towards me, jaw clenched, eyes blazing and grabbed the phone I still had in my hand.

"Helga's kind of busy right now. She'll call you back tomorrow. If she hasn't lost her voice by then."

I was too worried to worry about exactly what that meant. Shit, he was going to get upset.

He hangs up, dropping the phone onto the couch.

And all I can think of is shit he heard me calling him boring in bed.

I figure an endless stream of apologies is the way to go, because I can see the anger on his face and I know he's not fucking around.

"Arnold, I'm sorr-"

"When I get into that bedroom-" he points upstairs, towards my room, "I want you naked, and on your hands and knees. Is that fucking clear?"

Holy fuck.

"Yes," I manage to say, not questioning it, but he cocks an eyebrow, and I amend it to "yes, sir", just because it feels right, my panties getting a little wetter as I do so.

I stand, trying my best not to run to my room. I manage a fast walk. To say I'm kind of scared is an understatement. I've never seen him this mad before; and, evidently, he's going to work out his anger on me.

I repeat: holy fuck.

My dress is pulled up over my head and hitting the floor the second I walk into my room. I toy with the thought of leaving my underwear on for a while, just to make him even madder, but decide against it, unclasping my bra and pulling off my panties.

My teeth wedged in my bottom lip, I go to sit on the bed, just as he's walking in.

His eyes trail over me once, and folds his arms. "Pretty sure I told you to be on your hands and knees when I got in here, Helga,"

Shit. Well, to be fair, he couldn't expect me to remember things when his voice was as husky and low as it currently is.

"M'sorry," I mumble, looking down.

He takes a step closer, tilting my head upwards roughly. "Sorry doesn't cut it. Get on your back. Now."

I do as he says, and he starts to rummage in the drawers. I'm already embarrassingly wet, wetter than I have probably ever been before, and he hasn't touched me. I recognise him taking out one of my many scarves, and I struggle futilely to stifle a moan as he tied one around my head, covering my eyes. The next few go around my wrists and ankles, securing them to the bedposts. I give them all a few experimental tugs, but there's no way they're going to come loose unless he unties them. With a whimper, I realise I am completely at his mercy.

I feel his fingertips start to trace patterns on my inner thighs. He lets me squirm for a while, before speaking.

"So, you've faked your orgasms before?" He asks, his voice hard. I pause, and feel his strong hand coming down hard against my thigh. I gasp and nearly choke.

This is the same Arnold who apologised after giving me a hickey.

Arnold Shortman, my sweet and gentle angel, just fucking spanked me.

As I reel in shock and pleasure, he does it again, rubbing his fingers along where he's spanked afterwards, soothing the red skin.

"Answer me." He demands, his fingers trailing so close to my slit, I'm almost crying with need.

"Yes," I gasp, my eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold.

He makes a low, disapproving sound, spanking me again, hard enough to sting.

"Yes, sir." I correct myself, my hands clenched into fists.

He squeezes my thighs, and I'd give anything to be able to see him.

"Well, we'll have to make up for that, won't we?"

I take a deep breath but don't speak. What does he mean?

"You want it rough, fine," he says. I can feel his warm breath against my core, and I'm writhing. "This is how this is going to work; I'm going to fuck you. Hard. You're going to be screaming my name, and you're not going to be able to fucking keep count of how many times you're going to come. What was that you wanted me to do?" He pauses, and, without warning, pushes two fingers into me, pumping them in and out, hard and fast, curving them slightly. I'm a whimpering, moaning mess and I'm already very close. "Oh, right. You wanted me to use your body. I'm going to use your fucking body, alright." He stops suddenly, his fingers curling sharply upwards, rubbing against a spot that fucking shattered me. I gasped his name, my hands pulling on my restraints, desperately wanting to touch him. I hear him chuckle lowly. "I'm going to pound into you again and again and again..."

He stops every time I'm about to come, slowing his fingers, or pulling them out completely, and then watching me squirm. By the fourth time, I'm nearly sobbing.

"Arnold," I plead as he rubs his fingers against my gspot, hips bucking, begging him not to stop. His left hand comes down on my ass hard, making me since then moan.

"Wrong."

"S-sir," I gasp, blood burning. I don't think I've ever felt this way before, felt this good before, and it scares me and excites me at the same time.

"Beg for me, baby," he murmurs, his lips against my inner thigh, so close to where I need him. I whine softly, incoherent.

"P-please, sir, I need to come," I swallow hard.

I feel another harsh slap against the back of my thigh, making me groan. "Not good enough, Helga." He says, his fingers stilling inside me, making me groan louder.

"Fuck, please sir, please," I nearly sob as he starts to kiss the area just below my navel.

"Almost there, Helga," he approves, adding a third finger, effectively making me lose my train of thought.

"Anything," I gasp, desperation not even being the word anymore. "I'll do anything, sir, just, please-"

He curls his fingers. "Anything?"

I nod, slightly loosening the blindfold. "Anything,"

I can almost see his satisfied smirk.

"I can touch you, if that's what you want," as he says the words, I feel his fingertips grazing the swell of breasts. "...Maybe even taste you," he murmurs, placing a teasing, open-mouthed kiss on my clit. I groan, pulling uselessly on my restraints. "But," he says, making me whine in frustration. "If I do, you're going to come for me as many times as I want you to. You're going to let me use you like I want. Because you're mine tonight, Helga." His fingers, still inside me suddenly pick up speed before I can even whimper at his words. "Is that clear?" He asks, before letting his tongue finally find my clit and flicking against it.

"Fuck - yes sir," I pant, rocking my hips against him. He pulls his fingers out of me, replacing them with his tongue, and u see stars behind my tightly shut eyes. He rubs my clit with his tongue in hard, fast circles. His tongue finds my gspot, and he abuses is it, licking harshly.

"S-sir, c-can I come p-please?" I pant, my body on absolute overload. His movement on my clit became more violent and I could hear the grin in his voice as he said, "Come for me."

My toes curl, every muscle tenses as I finally drop off of the cliff I've been climbing. His tongue keeps moving against my gspot, almost greedily, his fingers not stopping against my clit, even as I ride out my orgasm.

I gasp, legs shaking as his movements get faster. I don't have to tell him I'm unbearably sensitive; he knows. And he's not stopping.

My hips grind against his face, sobbing out pleas for him to stop, for him to keep going. I'm going to come again, I know I am, and as his lips wrap around my clit and suck, I'm dangerously close.

"Arnold," I moan, every single nerve ending burning.

"That's right, baby," he moans against me, "say my name."

It's going to be a long night. Not that I'm complaining.

 **Love you guys.**


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